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alirhi · 3 years

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okay. let's do this shit.

Guess what, bitches? Mama bear's back and angry all over again. Remember when I said I might dive into a ragepost about how Bucky's treated after completing the one about Loki? This is it. This is the post. Welcome to fucking Thunderdome.

I will actually try to keep it civil. No promises, but I'll try. and I will not be accepting "constructive criticism" about my rage. Just so we're clear.

Got it? Good. Let's dive in.

In case you don't want to read the whole thing (I know I get wordy) here's what this whole post will boil down to: BUCKY NEVER HAD A FUCKING CHOICE. NEVER. NOT ONCE IN HIS ENTIRE ADULT LIFE.

Now, quick reminder: I don't read comics. I know nothing about Bucky's comic canon, except what Sebastian liked to bring up as often as possible during TWS/CW promotions: at some point, Bucky boned Nat. XD Since Bucky only exists as a Marvel property, I won't be bitching about other source material being disrespected like I did with Loki. This is all MCU, my dudes. And honestly? That's enough, because though we don't see nearly enough of Bucky for my liking, we do manage to get a rich, deep backstory to him in the material we're given, partly thanks to better writing in the early days of the MCU, and partly thanks to Sebastian Stan's phenomenal acting. Unlike the writers of the Loki series, Seb knows how to show, not tell. And gods, what stories those eyes show...

Let's start with the army. In an old post illustrating what an absolute BAMF Bucky Barnes truly is, I mistakenly said he enlisted, and a kind soul educated me on the incredible attention to detail Marvel used to pay - in this case, Bucky's ID number. 32557038. As this kind, eagle-eyed soul pointed out to me, the first two digits of that number - 32 - signify that Bucky was drafted, specifically from the NY, NJ, DE area (that last part is rather obvious, as Bucky and Steve are from Brooklyn lol). Bucky didn't choose to go to war. He was drafted. He was forced to fight, or go to prison.

Bucky was born in 1917, which means - again, as someone pointed out to me a while back - he came of age during the Great Depression. As a child, he would likely have seen his parents living comfortably and able to shower each other and him and his sister with gifts and fun memories, and then POOF. Stock market crashes when he's only 12-years-old, and life becomes brutal and painful. He manages to have some fun with his best friend Steve, and spends his teens/early 20s chasing girls and keeping his stupid, stubborn, tiny friend from getting beaten to death.

Steve constantly has something to prove. He's absolutely got what my mom always called "little man's disease", and Bucky's just doing his best not to roll his eyes too much at this asthmatic chihuahua constantly trying to beat up Tibetan mastiffs. While Steve keeps lying on his enlistment forms (an actual crime) trying again and again to get into the army and prove what a badass he is (definitely not), Bucky's had enough trauma and upheaval in his life and he just wants his stupid friend to calm tf down and live. Enjoy the fact that he doesn't have to go to war and get his limbs blown off.

And then he gets fucking drafted. This sweet, resigned realist who knows exactly how dangerous the war really is, is forced to put on a uniform and go fight strangers alongside other strangers thousands of miles from everything he knows. And on his last night of freedom, when he just wants to hang out with his friend, see some cool gadgets, and dance with a pretty girl, his stupid angry chihuahua friend feels the need to lie and try to enlist again.

Okay. Gotta get back on track. Ragepost about mistreatment of Bucky, not how much Steve annoys me. Sorry. Anyway...

Bucky's drafted, accepts his shitty lot with a brave smile, and is shipped off to Europe, where he is captured by HYDRA and presumed by the Allies to be KIA. Instead, he's strapped down, tortured, and given the HYDRA version of the super serum against his will. Steve rescues him, and Bucky knows he can't leave his idiot friend to his own devices to get his head blown off, so he dives right back into the fray. And then he falls off a cliff, loses most of his left arm, and is declared dead...again. This one's pretty damn valid, though lol. Without the serum no one knew he'd been shot up with, there is no way he would have survived that fall.

Here is where Bucky's story gets truly heartbreaking: His autonomy, his ability to consent is stripped from him through electroshock torture/brainwashing. The trigger words are conditioned into him during this process, and boom. Ten words in Russian, and Bucky Barnes is gone. Even the confused, hurting shadow of him is gone, leaving only a perfectly obedient killing machine, with Bucky's pretty face. He's strong as all hell, though, so they can't keep him fully under their control for long, not without more torture, when the disorientation of being fucking frozen wears off on longer missions.

I cannot stress this point enough, guys: Bucky. Had. No. Choice. Not like the draft, where his choices (go and get shot at, refuse and go to jail, or dodge and run to Canada) just suck. No, he literally didn't have a choice. He had his ability to choose stripped from him. If that's too complex a concept to really sink in, try this: His brain was fucking raped. Repeatedly. For decades. Nothing the Winter Soldier ever did was Bucky's fault. Nothing. Ever. Not remotely, no matter how you fucking slice it. Bucky is not an assassin. I almost said "not a killer", but he was a soldier, and a sharpshooter. He definitely killed when he was himself, but that was in a war, not a series of assassinations.

So far, imo, so good. This is just a rundown of Bucky's pre-show backstory. I don't love what he had to suffer, but I do love how it was treated in the movies. People were afraid of him, but when they knew the whole situation, Steve, Nat, and Sam rallied behind him. Natasha had plenty of reason to want the Winter Soldier dead; he'd tried to kill her multiple times and almost succeeded. Sam had no reason to help Bucky at all; he didn't know him, didn't trust him, and again, TWS had tried to kill him. But he stood by Steve, and when Bucky showed the clear difference between himself and TWS, Sam stood by him, too, and fought alongside him.

And it's very realistic, imo, that Tony didn't give a single fuck that Bucky had no choice. He watched this man murder both of his parents on tape. If TWS had killed my dad and I saw proof of it, I'd try to kill Bucky, too. Grief wins out over logic. Most emotions usually do. And that's a very important point we're going to come back to in a few minutes.

Bucky was really only in like ten minutes at most of IW and Endgame, and for multiple reasons I hate those movies, so I'm just gonna skip them, kay? Kay. On to the main event!

Here's where I get pissed off. Even if I didn't have an unhealthy attachment to this character, or the depth of appreciation for his tragic backstory that I do, the lack of continuity between the movies and the show alone would still piss me off. It always does. Don't even get me started on Joss "Continuity? What continuity?" Whedon and his (iconic, but flawed) shows. Ahem. Back on track...

Let me just get one little thing out of the way real quick: I fucking LOVE The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I love it. This show amazed me when I first watched it, and I still love it after many more viewings lol. I have only ever watched it all the way through without skipping over as much John Walker shit as possible the one time lol but I love how Sam and Bucky interact, and I fucking adore how Sam's arc was treated. I just wish they'd show the same care and attention to Bucky.

Because what they did to Bucky in this show is a fucking travesty. There was a tiny ray of hope in the pilot, when he called out Dr. Bitchface for being a terrible shrink. I thought that would be the start of him realizing he needed to find someone else and ignore the damaging shit that woman was telling him. But...nope. No such luck.

The show really had a strong start, I'll give it that. We see Bucky having nightmares of his time as TWS and struggling to hide how his traumatic memories are affecting him as he tries to live in the world again. He befriends the father of one of HYDRA's victims, which can't be good for Bucky (and we're shown it's definitely not when he sees the shrine in Yori's home to his late son) but it's sweet, how he's trying to connect and reach out to someone who's hurting and lonely.

They drop the ball a little with the whole... Bucky can hack a fucking car, but can't figure out Tinder thing. Had they just run with the fandom interpretation of the tiger photos line, that it shows that Bucky is bi and left it at that, I'd have been okay with it (and no, that is not because I ship Sam/Bucky. it's because Bucky is and always has been a certified nerd who loves technology and has consistently shown very little issue learning to use new gadgets). The outdated flip phone he handed his terrible court-mandated shrink was a burner; I liked that theory when I read it, especially since it's the only time we see him even holding a phone that old lol. This all could have fit the "Bucky is a sassy bisexual nerd" narrative and it'd be okay. Instead, the director was like "NOOOOOO that line was just to show how old he is and how he can't figure out all this newfangled technology!" Woman, you had him remotely driving someone else's vehicle with a tablet. That is NOT a man who can't figure out a damn smart phone!

But that's just a minor annoyance. What fills me with absolute rage is how everyone - not just the shitty therapist who lashes out at and purposely triggers her traumatized patients, but EVERYONE - Sam, Zemo, people who should fucking know better ALL treat him like he's a psychopath and a ticking time bomb. Like he chose to take the serum and he chose to kill for HYDRA, and he's just seen the error of his ways. *barf*

Bucky in the movies is established to be a victim, through and through. His guilt over what he was forced to do is natural, and that he sees himself as a monster makes sense... but that doesn't mean it's correct. The one and only thing I ever liked about Steve Rogers is at least he got it. He pointed out that none of it was Bucky's fault, he tried to show him that he was worth saving. That's the other reason I refuse to talk about Endgame. This post will get a WHOLE LOT LONGER and a lot fucking angrier if I open that door.

Zemo supposedly knows everything about HYDRA and super soldiers... So why does he treat Bucky like he's a corrupt serial killer? (this, for the record, is why I don't like Zemo) Why does he never point out that Bucky was given the serum against his will, or that his actions, when he had control of them, proved that he was never corrupted? Bucky never wanted to become superhuman. Bucky didn't even want to fucking fight!

Sam, despite constantly resisting the label, is shown very clearly to be Bucky's friend. By episode 3, he cares. He worries about how Bucky is getting lumped in with the other super soldiers in Zemo's speech... But he never really defends him. He says "what about Bucky?" but he doesn't point out that Bucky's a good man, he's fought so hard to help people, he does everything he can to avoid killing... And that fucking speech in episode 5. I was with him on "you gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." I was like "YEAH! Tell him, Sam! Bucky, you're WORTH SAVING, boo! Your value does not hinge on someone else's opinion of you!" And then... Sam dropped the ball.

He not only continued the disturbing pattern of victim-blaming in this show, and in Marvel/Disney properties in general, but he gave really dangerously bad advice! No one in their right mind, mental health professional or no, would EVER tell a traumatized former assassin (whether he was responsible for his actions or not) to go confront his victims' families out of the blue with no warning and no one to mediate and keep things from going to shit. Yori already knew his son had been murdered because he was in the "wrong place, wrong time." How is it being "of service" to tell him you're the one who killed him?! Remember how I said Tony's reaction to learning the full truth about his parents' deaths was valid and would be an important point later? Hi! Welcome to later. THAT is the natural reaction to facing the man who murdered your loved one(s). And even if Yori didn't get angry and lash out, HOW IS IT "HELPING" HIM OR BRINGING HIM "CLOSURE" TO KNOW THAT HIS FRIEND KILLED HIS FUCKING SON?!?!?! This man befriended him, bonded with him, watched him grieve... And now he's learning this is the man who caused all his pain and heartache to begin with? That is so toxic and psycho I just... I can't even... UGH.

And then there's the equally toxic and damaging "deeply traumatized person just needed a stern talking to and a hug to be ALL BETTER AGAIN" ending. I loved seeing Bucky happy and socializing, but it was too soon, and it was unearned. And it sends a fucking awful message to people actually struggling with PTSD, and to their loved ones who don't know how to help them. Heaping more blame on them and then hugging it out is NOT helpful!

This show could have been damn near perfect with just two changes. That's all. Just two. 1) Someone, anyone, bringing up the reasons why Bucky was never a villain in his presence. Someone being in his corner and reminding him, like Steve did, that it wasn't his fault and he's not going to "snap". 2) More time devoted to Bucky's healing. Actual fucking healing, not the shit they tried to pass off as a magic fix-all. He can have his happy barbecue moment, just don't frame it as "everything's great now!" Healing isn't linear, and there will be both good days and bad. Some of the most fragile people in the world have the brightest smiles.

If we get a season 2, which this amazing show absolutely deserves, and they address this stuff, all will be forgiven in my book. Expanding on his story and his journey toward healing will help to reframe that "happily ever after" garbage as something more realistic. But as it stands now... Fuck Marvel.

#fan rant #ragepost #long post #bucky barnes #mcu #captain america #the first avenger #the winter soldier #civil war #tfatws #mcu spoilers #stop victim blaming #victim not villain #never a fucking villain #bucky deserved better #fuck marvel #fuck disney

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dyaz-stories · 4 years

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After reading your kiss analysis, I have to say I’m still quite bitter about the Kao scene. Up till Kao I was certain he loved Kagome the most, after that it felt like he loved both equally or only learned to love Kagome more in the last few chapters and that just doesn’t feel right with everything we’ve seen up til that point. It’s sad to think he could have loved Kikyo more even though he barley knew or trusted her, while Kagome loved him unconditionally and couldn’t even get a kiss from him

Hey anon, I completely get how you feel. Again, this is way too long so I’m putting the whole thing under the cut.

The reason why the Goodbye Kiss and other elements, including the Kao arc at first, were so annoying to me was because, based on everything we’d seen until then, like you, I felt Inuyasha loved Kagome and, specifically, only Kagome (you can love more than one person and all that jazz but Kagome was explicitly not okay with him having feelings for both Kikyo and her at the same time). For me the Goodbye Kiss was a bigger deal, but it was basically because I felt the grounds on which I had loved Inukag up until then were destroyed. Basically, I felt betrayed by the way the story unfolded.

I wasn’t able to shake off most of my feelings on those arcs, even after reading perfectly reasonable analyses on the Goodbye Kiss. I mean intellectually I could understand it but I felt very differently when I thought back about it. I feel different about the Kao arc, though.

The thing about it is that it’s just... not a great arc in my opinion? I don’t know, I just reread it to answer and it feels more or less like a cheap repeat of the Illusionary Death arc. Everyone but Kagome is affected by some mind-control trick, except here it’s not because of Kagome herself

but because of a talisman Miroku gave her, which is sad in and of itself but makes sense after a year of continuous trauma for her (see this meta piece I wrote for more details),

Inuyasha sees a fake version of Kikyo who wants him to die with her,

he snaps out of it because of Kagome,

arc over.

The Kao arc is at this weird place where it’s necessary for the story, as it works as an arc where Inuyasha mourns Kikyo and ‘decides’ to keep on living (more on that in a second), but also it’s kind of like... been there done that. It’s the third time that Inuyasha is under some kind of spell and his guilt about Kikyo is used against him and he risks dying and something about Kagome snaps him out of it. Except the two first times showed a clear evolution about his character and this time it’s solved the same way as it is the first time.

This is probably unclear so let me develop that. The first time I’m referring to is the time when Kikyo herself hypnotizes Inuyasha or something and tries to take him to hell. He hears Kagome’s voice and the second he realizes she needs help he stops paying attention to Kikyo.

The second time is the Illusionary Death I just mentioned, but it actually shows a really interesting evolution of Inuyasha’s character. As you can see in the example above, Inuyasha was able to break the spell because he heard Kagome’s voice, and saw she was in difficulty. I really like that one because we see Inuyasha acting completely on instinct and naturally putting Kagome first. I do want to point out though that this is a case where Kikyo is just trying to kill him, so it can’t be compared to what happens later. Him ignoring Kikyo when she wants to murder him vs him wanting to protect her are just two different situations — though Kikyo does take him as him loving Kagome more than her at the moment.

Anyway, back to the Illusionary Death. Interestingly, Inuyasha doesn’t need to hear Kagome’s voice this time. He’s in the process of letting himself die with fake-Kikyo, when he thinks about Kagome, unmprompted.

And then he realizes that oh damn, they’re in Naraku’s trap, Kagome might need him, and he says he can’t let her die. Again, saving Kagome is his motivation not to let himself die, but this time he thinks of her without her intervention, and he manages to free himself with that added motivation.

So yeah I thought it was kind of cool that he goes from having to hear Kagome’s voice to simply thinking about her himself. Though it’s still really sad to read him say this.

Anyway back to the Kao arc, as you can see, it’s again Kagome’s voice that wakes him up. Obviously, Inuyasha is in a very bad place after Kikyo’s death, but I still see that as sort of a regression of his character personally. Like it’s been 400 chapters since that first time. Inuyasha’s definitely grown, and I think it would have been a great moment to either have him thinking about Kagome and going ‘that’s right I have so much to live for!’ or not thinking about Kagome at all and just deciding to live for himself.

But... considering what his relationship with Kikyo was in those recent chapters — he almost seems closer to her than he was at the beginning — I can’t say it doesn’t make sense that he was crushed by it. Though I will say that the fact that him being basically suicidal isn’t addressed does bother me.

Anyway, back to Kao. As you can see, I have many problems with this arc, so I can just shove it under the carpet and act like it was a miss. However, concerning what you were talking about, while Kao does say that Kikyo was the woman loved most in the world

and Kagome later implies that Kao can sense emotions/read people’s minds, I just don’t think it makes much sense? I mean, Kao goes on to say that Kagome is in more pain than Inuyasha.

Don’t get me wrong, Kagome has gone through a lot since she first went through the well, and I don’t have any doubts that she was traumatized. I also think she did a lot of healing for Inuyasha at her own detriments.

But this is Inuyasha. If Kagome’s gone through a lot, he’s gone through hell and back before he even met her, and while I’d argue the year he’s spent with her was an improvement, it wasn’t all sunshine and roses either. Not only that, but he’s shown as suicidal, and if he’s lost “the woman he loved the most”, I just don’t see how Kagome’s soul could be “more wounded than his”.

He also adresses his feelings for Kikyo in a way that doesn’t seem to show him having particularly intense emotions about her, I feel.

I don’t know, my interpretation of it would be that Kikyo’s death mainly triggered the guilty feelings he’d had since the beginning. Now, crushed under all this pain, he might have thought things along those lines about Kikyo, and that might be what Kao felt. Kagome does go on to say that Inuyasha is the one who’s the most hurt by Kikyo’s death, which makes sense even if she wasn’t “the one he loved most” and to me shows that Kao’s power was maybe not super effective.

So in conclusion, Kao’s arc was needed considering where the story was at by then. Unfortunately, because of the (inexplicable) restrengthening of the relationship between Kikyo and inuyasha, Kikyo’s death pushes Inuyasha back into a place he’s supposed to have grown out of for a while. I think it was really important to acknowledge his feelings before going forward. However, I think it’s a rather poorly handled arc that doesn’t particularly serve Inuyasha’s character. We just see, again, an evolution he already had.

I will say, I think that him showing empathy for Kagome and apologizing for not noticing her feelings is an evolution,

but I don’t find it super useful because Kagome immediately tells him that his feelings are important and he shouldn’t feel bad about it. Don’t get me wrong she’s absolutely right to do that, but I think in order for this to really work it should have lead to her acknowledging her own feelings.

Back to the subject at hand, Kao’s arc is a weird arc that’s not super well handled, and I think it just goes to show that Rumiko was getting tired of the manga and wasn’t super into it. It’s a personal interpretation but she strikes me as the type of person who thrives with stories that do not go on for too long and who grows bored of them when they do. Inuyasha is absolutely symptomatic of that. Again, just my feelings, but I feel like at the beginning of the manga she was really enjoying it and having fun with it and by the end it’s more of a chore than anything.

But that’s just speculation on my part, really. Anyway, I totally get why you would feel that way, I basically have the same feelings as you do except they’re directed to the Goodbye Kiss, but I’m pretty chill about Kao’s arc for the reasons mentioned above. I hope this wasn’t too long or that it was at least interesting, I’ve been working on this for literally hours because whenever I finish a point I go off on another tangent lol. Thank you for your message anon, I’d been meaning to talk about Kao’s arc for a while so I’m glad you gave me a reason to!

I haven’t even talked about Kagome’s reaction at the end of the arc but no one needs to read another five paragraphs on this.

#inuyasha #kagome #my analysis #asks

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glacies-tempestatem · 4 years

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THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all had witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

MUN NAME: Hatshepsut/Hats AGE: 23 CONTACT: IM, Ask, Discord

CHARACTER(S): Rukia Kuchiki andKiaen Shiba

CURRENT FANDOM(S): Bleach

BLEACH FANDOM(S) YOU HAVE AN AU FOR: I plan write in the future an ATLA and I have some others AU written.

MY LANGUAGE(S): Spanish (first language) English (fluent or I think so) and I leanrt a bit of Japanese and I’m currrently learning German

THEMES I’M INTERESTED IN FOR RP: FANTASY / Science fiction / Horror / WESTERN / ROMANCE / Thriller / MYSTERY / DYSTOPIA / ADVENTURE / MODERN / Erotic / Crime / MYTHOLOGY / Classic / HISTORY / RENAISSANCE / MEDIEVAL / Ancient / WAR / FAMILY / POLITICS / RELIGION / SCHOOL / ADULTHOOD / CHILDHOOD / APOCALYPTIC / GODS / Sport / MUSIC / Science / FIGHTS / ANGST / Smut / DRAMA / etc.

PREFERRED THREAD LENGTH: one-liner / 1 para / 2 PARA / 3+ / NOVELLA.

ASKS CAN BE SEND BY: MUTUALS / NON-MUTUALS / PERSONALS / ANONS.

CAN ASKS BE CONTINUED?: YES / NO only by Mutuals?: YES / NO.

PREFERRED THREAD TYPE: CRACK / casual nothing too deep / SERIOUS / DEEP AS HECK.

IS REALISM / RESEARCH IMPORTANT FOR YOU IN CERTAIN THEMES?: YES / NO.

ARE YOU ATM OPEN FOR NEW PLOTS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

DO YOU HANDLE YOUR DRAFT / ASK - COUNT WELL?: YES / NO / SOMEWHAT.

HOW LONG DO YOU USUALLY TAKE TO REPLY?: 24H / 1 WEEK / 2 WEEKS / 3+ / months / years. /DEPENDS ON MOOD AND INSPIRATION, AND IF I’M BUSY I

I’M OKAY WITH INTERACTING: ORIGINAL CHARACTERS / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / MY FANDOM / CROSSOVERS / MULTI-MUSES / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / CANON-DIVERGENT PORTRAYALS / AU-VERSIONS.

DO YOU POST MORE IC OR OOC?: IC / OOC.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WITH FOLLOWING OTHERS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

BEST WAYS TO APPROACH YOU FOR RP/PLOTTING: You can send me an IM if we’re mutual or an ask in case we’re not. Don’t be shy, I love plot and talk ooc! BTW if you have me in discord,is the best way toplot with me

WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HOLD TOWARDS YOUR PLOTTING PARTNER: I just expect they reply me sooner or later, and that we have fun writting!

WHEN YOU NOTICE THE PLOTTING IS RATHER ONE-SIDED, WHAT DO YOU DO?: Nothing, at times I lack of muse or inspiration, and sometimes will be that situation on my partner. I mean, it’s okay! It can become complicated if after a lot of time,my partner barely shows interest in plot.

HOW DO YOU USUALLY PLOT WITH OTHERS, DO YOU GIVE INPUT OR LEAVE MOST WORK TOWARDS YOUR PARTNER?: I tend to tell my idea, if our characters haven’t interacted, I find it harder at times, but I think that it’s a perfect opportunity to develop cool ideas and approaches.

WHEN A PARTNER DROPS THE THREAD, DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. - For me comunication is essential. And I don’t have any type of issue with dropping threads, it’s okay. Just tell me and in case you want to start something new, we do something new, simple.

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY LEAD YOU TO DROP A THREAD?: Lack of muse for the topic, but I rarely drop them.

- WILL YOU TELL YOUR PARTNER?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

IS COMMUNICATION IN THE RPC IMPORTANT TO YOU? YES / NO.

- AND WHY?: I don’t have a crystal ball, so I need you tell me how do you feel about a thread,plot, topic,whatever. ALSO I do trully appreciate if you tell me if I did/said/written something that made you feel unconfortable. Again, I don’t know what I did wrong unless you tell me.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH ABSOLUTE HONESTY, EVEN IF IT MAY MEANS HEARING SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT YOU AND/OR PORTRAYAL?: Yes, as long as the person is respectful,I’m more than fine. Respect is just fundamental.If you don’t likesomething about me/my portray whatever, you can tell it,but with respect.

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SUCH SITUATION IN A MATURE WAY? YES / NO.

WHY DO YOU RP AGAIN, IS THERE A GOAL?: Because Rukia is my bae, and in Kaien’s case,I think that aremany things that are necessary to know, and weprobably never know because he died before the anime/manga began.And gosh I enjoy writting their backgrounds

WISHLIST, BE IT PLOTS OR SCENARIOS: Rukia and Kaien childhood.

THEMES I WON’T EVER RP / EXPLORE: I’ll not write rape,non con and similars it’s understandably triggering for a lot of people and writing it glorifies it, Then, I’m not disposed to write either racism or misoginy stuff.

WHAT TYPE OF STARTERS DO YOU PREFER / DISLIKE, CAN’T WORK WITH?: Aslong at I can reply with freedom,I’m fine with your starter.It’s better if is a plotted idea, but random ones are okay.

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE MOST?: Friendly ones, specially if I can write alot of their background.

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE LEAST?: Depressive ones or just distant persons.

WHAT ARE YOUR STRONG ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: II want to think that I’m very comprehensive.

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAK ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: I’m super slow, and I know that somepersons don’t have much time, so the rp process becomesslow for both.

DO YOU RP SMUT?: YES / NO/ DEPENDS.

DO YOU PREFER TO GO INTO DETAIL?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH BLACK CURTAIN?: YES / NO.

- WHEN DO YOU RP SMUT? MORE OUT OF FUN OR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?: For both, I think that write the sexuality and the sexual life of characters is part of their development.Although I understand that not everyone feels comfortable writing it, so it’s fine for me just talk about some aspect about their relationship.

- ANYTHING YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO RP THERE?: Idk, I suppose that some certain type of fetishes

ARE SHIPS IMPORTANT TO YOU?: YES / NO Ships are first of all,part of character development, and depending of the partner and the ship,can be incredible fruitful to muses. Both can evolve together, or can bring dispiar and traumasto both or one of them, and that change and influence the character and I’mmore than open to write her in both cases.

WOULD YOU SAY YOUR BLOG IS SHIP-FOCUSED?: YES / NO. Ships are funny,won’t deny it. But isnt my focus.I’ve already had that time of my rp life, and sincerely I’m now more into just casual rping and develop my characters.

DO YOU USE READ MORE?: YES / NO / SOMETIMES WHEN I WRITE LONG STUFF.

ARE YOU: MULTI-SHIP / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship — MULTIVERSE / Singleverse.

- WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO EXPLORE THE MOST IN YOUR SHIPS?: How both change with the relationship, their failures and their strong sides. How they individualy grownw or do a recoil.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS?: YES / NO. - DEPENDS I need you tellme a lot of your plan and idea.I prefer developalittle before ship them.But if you come with a good story, background etc I’M IN

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOUR MUSE INTERESTING TOWARDS OTHERS, WHY SHOULD THEY RP WITH THIS PARTICULAR CHARACTER OF YOURS NOW, WHAT POSSIBLE PLOTS DO THEY OFFER?: Kaien is someone a bit stubborn, but that’s just his facade, inside he has some insecurities and some events from the past made himlike that,so I’d love amuse who tell him ‘man, you don’t need to be like that’.

- WITH WHAT TYPE OF MUSES DO YOU USUALLY STRUGGLE TO RP WITH?: Muses extremely selfish and which will trait my muses like trash towards their point of view.

- WHAT DO THEY DESIRE, IS THEIR GOAL?: Gosh,Kaien hadmany goals he could had never achieve! I think he would be so proud to see Rukia as captain! Rukia has now as goalcontinue incresing her powers and keep the legacy of Kaien and Ukitake alive.

- WHAT CATCHES THEIR INTEREST FIRST WHEN MEETING SOMEONE NEW?: If is just someone that Rukia never met or talked, she is automativally interested in know better that person. But at times she is just rather shy.

- WHAT DO THEY VALUE IN A PERSON?: Loyality over all.

- WHAT THEMES DO THEY LIKE TALKING ABOUT?: Tea,Chappy, fashion,perfumes, LivingWorld. In kaien’s case, fights,cars,movies

- WHICH THEMES BORE THEM?: Noble’s probelms, for both muses

- DID THEY EVER WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC?: Rukia? Traumas? LMAO she had killed his rolemodel, lived in poverty for many years and experienced countless issues relatedto it. The lack of thelove of parents and near death experience while was just a kid.

- WHAT COULD LEAD TO AN INSTANT KILL?: Just only to hollows

- IS THERE SOMEONE /-THING THEY HATE?: Rukia hates Gin, Aizen and Tousen, and she does not mind that Gin and Tousen redeemed themself. For her will always be traitors. Then there is Ywach and As Nodt. She simply cannot bare them.

IS YOUR MUSE EASY TO APPROACH?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?: With something of Chappy

SOMETHING YOU MAY STILL WANT TO POINT OUT ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: Not really.

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by: Soteln from @skyvar

Tagging: Everybody did at this point lol.Idk who tag

#dash games #gosh took melike forever #But I did it #ooc

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princess-of-embarrassment · 4 years

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Some 3 am realizations about life, relationships and maybe more?? idk whatever have fun.

Ok before i start on this shit I am going to say it is 3 am and i am just dumping some thoughts like i usually do. Sorry for the shit grammar, disorganized thoughts and all that jazz... In a sense i feel like this is a letter to myself and what i have been trying so damn hard to understand so yeah i am talking to myself and to this website. I think. Idk. i will probably delete this in the morning when i am back on bad bitch mode and go back to posting memes pero por ahora vamos a ver como nos va. Mayb ei will leave it up bc i forget or because i dont care who sees it. sorry for the shitshow of a post you are about to read but you probably already kinda know me so yay! I debated posting this shit because the internet is a wildin place but oh well!!1!!11

ok tumblr it is 3 in the morning and i have 100% regressed into being a 15 years old on this damn website shitposting and reblogging some corny ass posts but it feels right, so here i am attempting to process it through the only form i know how to actually know how to cope with things. I mean memes are cool and all but lets be real, they don’t address the problems. this is the one place i can brain dump all of my thoughts and not really care about where they go because they will eventually disappear in the tumblr algorithm.

My old blog was often the only separation I had between my reality and the life i really wished i had, but now I have that life that I always wanted so why the hell am i back at square one? To be fair, the life that i have right now may not be envied by many but its a pretty darn good life to me. Im safe 99.9% of the time. The other .1% is a story for another day. I have been trying to figure out for months as to why i’m back to being so active on here and now that it’s 3:00am I realize it’s because of self isolation (thanks corona!).

Let me start off by saying this; my reality is not something I am going to be able to escape. Ever. It has brought me to where i am today, allowed me to meet some really incredible people and i am so so grateful. I have learned so much in the past few years. i am grateful what happened happened. Wild, i know. I escaped it physically but i cannot escape it mentally, at least for now. School, work, writing, dealing with my freshmen’s problems was what kept my brain occupied and away from having to face the part of my life that I really just want to forget. To be fait my trauma response has taken pretty good care of fucking up my memory and all of those fun things but ironically the things i want to forget about so badly are the things i think about every single day without skipping a beat. brains are weird like that.

I am ok now but sometimes i forget and fall back into my new reality. That is ok. People that know my story ask me why i don’t write about it on a public platform because it’s inspiring?? or hopeful?? or whatever cliche people want to use when addressing a topic that makes them uncomfortable and they want to feel better about the life they live. 21 year old latina girl faces adversity and lives the american dream (barely)..i mean, i did run a whole ass magazine and wrote a piece for graduation including some details of my story but that was like the rated g version with only the little sad parts that people are able to handle without feeling like their comfort zone is being violated. MEdia is a wonderful place isnt it??? so i get where they are coming from, but what they dont understand is that an international platform is not where i can share any of these thoughts... Listen, I know this is cryptic and confusing and you are probably really curious about what the hell happened to me but i don’t feel safe to type it out on international platforms with public access. I don’t know if i ever will... Yeah i can talk to people i trust about it because i am in control of the space and the situation and who is obtaining that information but you never really know with the internet.

maybe in the future i’ll write a book on it. even then i will probably use my alias make it a YA fiction with an added love story that ends in a happy ending. Maybe one day one of the school girl crushes I have will turn into that YA story and i dont have to make any of it up.

If i am honest...this blog is the only safe place i will probably ever have where he wont find me. He can find my school and my address and phone number and work and everything in between because that is just the way things work. Yeah yeah i get it stop posting shit on social media that is how he finds you whatever. What people dont understand is that I cant stop living my life again. I already started so i cant go back to giving him that power. It makes no sense. Also, his family is too confused by all of the ups and downs of the last year that they dont really know where i am going or what i am doing. So anyways, long story short - That’s why i am back on here, because it has become the same written safe haven I had when i was 15 and tried to escape my physical reality. Only difference is that i am trying to manage the mental reality of it all...

I also have so many questions about what to do next. Like i mentioned in another post, i didnt think i would make it to 21 but i did. I didnt think this far ahead so i guess i will just figure it out along the way but hear me out. How do i face a new reality that no one can relate to. At least not the people around me. How do i make friends and know when the “right time” is to tell them hey btw if this happens lmk lol. Even more importantly (because it relates to my future as world famous YA novelist.. lol sure grace...) How do I even date someone??? many questions are tied to that. like... I know theyre going to ask. “what happened?” “who is it?” “how can i help?” “Isnt there something we can do?”. i am more than willing to answer these questions because fuck, if im dating someone i would be curious too.. but do i even answer those questions. How do i know they are ready to handle that kind of information? how can i guarantee theyre not going to leave. How can i know that they arent going to be frightened by what has happened. how do i know they are not going to think differently of me. How do i explain to this person “yeah i have stress nightmares about what happened and when i wake up i think i am back in that situation and not where i live and i have to remind myself i am in a whole different area code but then its fine lol so if we share a bed at any point in time dont be alarmed if i wake up in a panic.” or how do i explain to them when something triggers me and all i can do is freeze because maybe it is him. Maybe he finally found me. but then i am back to reality and move on with my day because that is the only thing left to do. I cant throw myself a shitty pity party thats generic as fuck and i dont have time for it but whatever. moving on. next question. How do i know theyre not gonna walk away because they have the misconception so many people have?? Just because i went through some shit doesnt mean i am unstable or unloveable or whatever bs people think. This isnt going to go away. This shit is a aprt of me but it doesn not define me. it is not who i am.I dont have the option to make it go away but people have the option to pick up their things and go. seems unfair to me sometimes. It seems unfair to generalize people like that. I am always open to a new relationship but people expect me to be sitting at home scared to go out into the world and live my life. I have a life to live and i am so ready to explore it by myself or with someone by my side but quarantine has brought me back on here to deal with the fact that i am back to being stuck inside. Mentally and physically. One sucks less than the other.

I have so many other questions but i am feeling tired again and its almost 4am so maybe i should go to bed. Y’all dont know how happy i am to have this trash site to vent to in the middle of the night. theres some relly judgy people on here but at least i know my feed wont judge me or try to fix what has happened. it will just listen.

Anyways, i doubt anyone will read this because this post got long as fuck but if you did i give you a high five and a virtual hug for getting through the clusterfuck of sentences. Thanks tumblr. If i ever go viral again on this shitshow of a website i may have to bring back my studyblr and go underground lmfao jk maybe. I cant wait to hug my friends and the people i have met that have become a part of my daily routine (yes even during social isolation, get off my ass I am still socially isolating). All i can do for now is wait for someone who cares about me for me and isn’t scared of my past or the pieces of it that linger in my present. I deserve nothing less. if they cant do that they are not worth my time and i hope they drop their keys every single time they go to open their front door. oh... they also better be ready for the hours i spend typing away my thoughts on my computer. Maybe one day they will be allowed to read them too... lol maybe not. whatever who knows. Peace out kiddos stay healthy xoxo.

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crimsonrevolt · 7 years

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Congratulations Taylor you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Marlene McKinnon!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

I’m so happy that you decided to apply for someone fresh, Taylor! Your application for Marlene was deep and thought through and left me with a very clear picture of how you were planning on portraying her. I could tell how much work you’d put into thinking through her past (specifically in this rp) and how it could potentially shape her future. I love how many different roads there are to her journey, and how you completely embraced the fact that she’s a less stable character than many we have in the rp. I can’t wait to see what you do with her and to witness you bring her to life within the rp! *your faceclaim change to Madelaine Petsch has been accepted!

application beneath the cut (tw: Torture, Kidnapping, PTSD, mentions of Eating Disorders)

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

It’s Taylor! 18 (almost 19, geez.), CST, female pronouns!

ACTIVITY

Erg… normally, I’d say a 6-7/10, weekly. I can post some every week unless something comes up.

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

I’ve been here nearly a year now!

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

Oh man, uh – Ron. I do get angry and jealous, especially with those I love, but I would like to think I have a strong sense of loyalty for my friends. But there’s also a lot of deep-rooted insecurity and fear that he’ll never amount to the greatness of others that I really relate to, especially recently.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Ya’ll are angels. Pass it on.

Also, said I’d put in a new app to stick around, so here it is!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Marlene Isadora McKinnon

FACE CLAIM

Madelaine Petsch. Or, Sasha Pieterse.

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

When looking through the open characters, Marlene was one that I kept coming back to. She’s one of the first Marauder era characters I ever had a true fascination with, although I’ve always done my admiring from afar, instead of taking the chance to play her myself. There’s something about her that’s so fascinating to me - after all, the McKinnon family is killed personally by Voldemort himself; but why? Surely, he’s capable of sending his followers to take care of anyone he deems a threat. So what made Marlene and her family so special to be sought out personally, by the darkest wizard of the time?

Aside from that, the skeleton here for Marlene leaves so much to be considered, and honestly I’m amazed she hasn’t been taken yet. There’s so much about her that is left to be discovered and explored, especially in wake of the torturous kidnapping she endured at the hands of Voldemort already. The sort of pain he inflicts is bound to leave psychological marks, the sort of which can never truly be brought back from. Any return from trauma is something that can happen in many ways - some people use it as strength, using it to build themselves into better, less fragile versions of themselves. Others use it as a way to be broken down, never returning from the brink of agony; and then there are those who fester in it, putting on a face, pretending as if nothing ever happened in the first place. The latter of which is where Marlene falls.

She wasn’t always that way; no, as a child Marlene was a wild card. That much hasn’t changed with age. She was a very bubbly, charismatic girl, someone willing to jump in head first, make friends first, ask questions second. Her addictive personality was something that could be pulled in only by her beloved twin Marcus, the true heart walking around outside her body. He was always the one person Marlene adored without reason, or promise - some may say her affections toward him were obsessive or unhealthy; but in their Pureblooded family, Marcus McKinnon was the only one to truly love her. The one to remind her that her gender and personality were not reasons to be hated. She loves him for that, more than she loves herself - but in the wake of her trauma, it’s so hard to let him in.

Trauma has become a very pivotal part of Marlene, but don’t be fooled; that is not all she is. Her addictive personality once manifested in terms of nothing but having a good time - now, it has personified into an eating disorder and a drinking problem. Coping mechanisms are how she chooses to handle it, never allowing anyone to see the habits she’s fallen into. Aside from that, so much of her personality just speaks to me. The woman she is, is someone I can relate to very much, in many ways - she’s essentially just a child, who has had to endure so much agony and terror with no choice. It’s broken her beyond relief, but she’s a phoenix, trying to rebuild herself in the ashes, find a way to exist. There is so much to the woman that is so utterly fascinating, so many paths she could travel down in respect to finding a way to not only survive the war, but to exist with the battle scars she continues to be inflicted with.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Marlene identifies as a pansexual female. Sex isn’t something she gives much thought to; if it happens, cool, but she doesn’t put many labels to it. As far as she’s concerned, life is too short to put much thought into who she shares a bed with. As for her gender, she truly hasn’t ever given it much thought; never has Marlene ever felt like anything other than a girl. It’s simply what she is.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

Aesthetic 1

Mock Blog

Playlist:

Trouble - Natalia Kills - absolutely her theme song Learn your lines, get your story straight, Broken bottles gonna seal your fate Happiness is just a glass away, I’m trouble Good Time Girl by Scouting for Girls You took me in and shook me up inside. You got the stuff, the stuff that drives me wild. Carmen by Lana Del Rey She said ‘you don’t wanna be like me- Don’t wanna see all the things I’ve seen.’ Hurricane - Halsey I’m a wanderess, I’m a one night stand Don’t belong to no city Don’t belong to no man I’m the violence in the pouring rain I’m a hurricane

Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy Anything you say can and will be held against you And now I’m here to give you all my love So I can watch your face, as I Take it all away

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it: “Well. I’m shit with names, so we’re not going to do that, but– a spell to fix hangovers. Not somethin’ many people would find ‘practical’ these days, I know, but bloody hell if it wouldn’t make things easier sometimes.”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“Obviously I’d want Marcus. If I’m going into that place, there’s nobody I want by my side than my brother. No bloody idea what I’d take though - wait, I take it back, I’d want my broom. Just because I’m in the forest doesn’t mean I’ve got to trample along the ground waitin’ for those damn spiders, yeah?”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make? “The sort that take time - ‘least, that’s what I’m told. Guess I’m impulsive.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you? “I went down without a fight. Call me a crazy bitch all you want, Merlin knows people do; but don’t say I was a coward.”

WRITING SAMPLE

TW: mentions of torture, kidnapping, and PTSD

When Marlene’s eyes opened, she had no idea where she was; she couldn’t move and her head felt as if it had been filled with static. It was as if all of her senses had been taken from her; she had no idea as to where she was, or what the date was. Any memory of what had happened to get her into the blind situation she seemed to have been put into were gone; the last thing she was capable of remembering was…gone. There was nothing.

A strong and horribly unpleasant burning filled her throat and spread to the back of her skull then, and a sharp wail of pain escaped from her before she could process the pain that shot through her. Pain welled behind her eyes and took away the already slight amount of vision that she had managed to regain. Breathing suddenly became very difficult, and Marlene became all too aware of the fact that her wrists had been shackled to a wooden chair by metal cuffs as her lungs began to feel as if they’d collapse unto themselves at any minute.

Memories began to flood through her mind then, incoherent and frazzled, none making any sort of sense in the sense that she was seeing them. Her eyes were shut and stinging from the tears that had sprung to the surface in her current pain-filled state, but she could see every memory flooding her mind clearly. As much as the physical pain seemed to be out to kill her, the things that had begun to go through her mind were much worse.

“What is happening to me…” The thought was fleeting, as it went through her mind, and another pain shot through her entire body, radiating throughout every limb and causing her to scream out in pain again. It was a feeling much like burning, and Marlene could barely form a feasible thought for what had begun to happen to her, let alone try and begin to figure out where the pain was coming from.

Pain continued to shoot through her, numbing her, until eventually the pain dissipated altogether and she drifted off back into unconsciousness.

Day 2 |

The next time that Marlene awoke — that she was aware of, anyhow — everything in her mind was hazy. She couldn’t remember what was real and what she had seen while she was unconscious; she knew for a fact, however, that she hadn’t slept in a day, at the very least. The burning had stopped sometime within the last twenty-four hours and had instead turned into a dull ache that had never gone away.

At some point during what Marlene could only assume had to have been a day, she had been untied from the wooden chair she had been forcibly spent the better part of two days strapped to, though she had yet to be released from the room she was still being held prisoner inside of. Her eyesight had returned at some point after the burning had stopped, and with that, she had managed to see that there was no way out of the dirt hole that she’d been trapped in; of course, there were doors somewhere, so she knew it had to in fact be some sort of room, but from where she was forced to be standing, there was absolutely nothing but dirt and mud all around.

There had to be doors. That much, at least, she was nearly positive of, if nothing else. How else would she have been released from the chair? How else would she have seen….but had that happened? She couldn’t remember. The line between things that had happened and the things she’d taken to imagining whenever she slipped into unconsciousness was becoming more and more blurry by the day, so much that it was nearly impossible for her to remember which things had happened even before she had ended up…wherever she had ended up.

The next day, it only got worse, as that was the day that she began to recognize the faces of the people who’d come to see her. It was the day that the physical pain became nothing on that of the pain she began to feel in her heart, the weight of which had suddenly become more unbearable than it had when she was a little girl, when she had become a disappointment. No, this was much worse than that.

Marcus appeared first. Then, her parents, James. Over and over again, until the words and the disappointment and the unbearable realization that not a single one of them truly had ever loved her or was proud of her, hit her with enough power that she doubled over. The weight of it all made her collapse, falling against the muddy floor without a second thought. The voices continued to get louder, the disappointment swallowing her whole, and her hands went to clutching at her head, nails digging into her scalp in a way to force her to focus on another kind of pain, on anything other than what she was hearing every person she had ever loved say , the words getting louder and louder by the minute.

Time continued to pass, feeling like hours, and then days, when in reality it had only been a couple of minutes. Marlene’s breathing became more and more labored as she attempted to stable and calm herself, to convince herself that none of what she was hearing inside of her head was true—but it didn’t work. The more she fought to ignore the noise in her head, the louder it got. Hot, fresh tears continued to leak out of her eyes, despite how tightly she had them shut, and eventually, she couldn’t keep the pain suppressed anymore. She let out a long and hollow, high pitched wail of pain that managed to block the noise out momentarily, before it came back altogether, this time bringing the burning with it.

When she came to again, it was thanks to her own screams. Her throat felt raw and as if it was on fire, her screams becoming more and more hoarse and hollowed with every wail that she released. Despite how dark her hole was, her time locked inside had allowed her to become used to the darkness—and she saw the blood that smeared her skin with perfect clarity, despite the darkness and her tired, drained mind. Her entire body felt as if it was made of lead, and then the voices came back again. They became louder and louder, the sounds swirling together inside of her head, while the red stains that streaked across her and mixed with the dirt stained onto her skin stood out more and more vividly with each passing moment.

The burning returned then, more vividly than before, and Marlene’s lungs began to feel as if they had stopped functioning altogether yet again. The pain all of a sudden blasted back into her, just as intense and horrible as it had been in the beginning, until eventually, she cradled her head in her hands again, paying no attention to the dirt and blood that inevitably was tainting the fair color of her hair.

A sharp, high pitched scream of agony shot out of her, so unlike the screams she’d grown accustomed to hearing herself make in the long hours in the hole. Hot tears of pain flooded out of her again, so much that it nearly surprised her—of would have, if she could feel surprise anymore. The pain grew more and more unbearable, breaking her down more so than it had before, until eventually the wailing died down and the final piece that had kept her sane until then broke. Then, she drifted back off into the darkness that came with the unconsciousness that she’d grown so familiar with.

… And then she woke up. Sweat matted long tendrils of hair to her face, salty tears swelling in her eyes as her frame shot up. Thick blankets were soaked through and clung to her legs, a reminder that she could never escape. “Bloody hell, McKinnon.” She mumbled, throat closing again. “Not again.”

#Accepted App

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allthethingswecoulddo · 5 years

Text

Being a Bi Survivor- 11 Reflections

This Bi Visibility Day I want to share my story of being a survivor. Before we begin, some content warnings.

Read with care. ❤️

❤️

In this post, I talk about coercive relationships and sexual violence including mentions of rape in an intimate relationship. I explore my experience of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and other mental health issues including thoughts of suicide.

I’ve used asterisks for some difficult words e.g. I write s****l violence and r**e

You can find links to services in this post. If you don’t feel like reading on, that’s cool!

When I read the statistics on bi experiences of s****l violence, a whole cacophony of feelings surface. I see myself and my friends reflected; surviving, processing and trying to pave a way through the rest of our lives after abuse. I hear echoes of the invalidation and ridicule that permeates public consciousness about bi identities. I’m reminded of the voices within the queer community that erase and degrade bi people, with off-hand comments or sustained attacks. And it’s not easy to find the words for those feelings or the words to explain that biphobia leads to deep and lasting harm.

Bisexual women are five times more likely than heterosexual women to be abused by a partner. In one study, 10.8 per cent of bi women reported having been abused, compared to 8.2 per cent of lesbians and 6 per cent of straight women. *

Bisexuals who experience multiple oppressions, such as trans, BAME or disabled people, face even higher rates of sexual violence. Evidence from America shows that while trans people face higher rates of sexual violence, bi trans women are the most at risk.*

I hope that by sharing my experience, other survivors will feel less alone and discover tools to navigate their way through the uncharted terrain of trauma. The role of biphobia in the abuse I experienced might not seem obvious, but it is front and center - biphobia made me vulnerable to abuse, biphobia played a part in sustaining my self-doubt and biphobia strengthened my fear that no one would believe me.

It’s important to emphasize that abuse can happen to anyone. Whether or not you are bi or LGBT+, I hope that this is useful for you.

I was trapped, and only when I left did the fear flood in.

Whilst I was in an abusive relationship, I couldn’t see it. My mental health spiraled, and my friends expressed concern about the dynamics of the relationship. I was much better at finding flaws in myself and other reasons I felt tangled up than I was at recognizing the ways my boundaries were being crossed, and my trust abused. In other words, I blamed myself from the start.

Only after I had left the relationship did I start to recognize what had been happening; that coercion and manipulation were at the heart of the way my abuser had been communicating with me and treating me. The dislocation between my inner world of turmoil and the realities of the relationship suddenly make sense, and that’s when I started to feel the fear.

I felt it hit me like a tonne of bricks.

It might seem like a strange concept, to ‘realise’ that you’ve been fearful of someone or to ‘realise’ that you’ve been harmed. How could I not know that I’d been s******y assaulted?

The saying ‘the penny dropped’, ‘it hit me like a tonne of bricks’ and ‘my world turned upside down’ had never felt so literal as when I started to recognise that I’d escaped an abusive relationship.

My body kept secrets until I was ready to survive them.

Even at this time, when symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) kicked in and I was at my lowest, I remember being so grateful and in awe of my body. It was as if it had held onto all the feelings I couldn’t have processed and managed within the relationship.

My body waited until I was safe to release all the feelings that you’d expect in a situation of threat. I could feel the chemicals in my bloodstream, keeping me awake, alert, poised for defense.

Hypervigilance plagued my days and nights - it was exhausting, and at the time I didn’t understand what was happening. I felt like I was losing control, and didn’t know what to believe.

Fight. Flight. Freeze.

I’d heard of the fight or flight response, but I didn’t know you could freeze. It makes sense. When it happened I left my body, I left the room, I went into another world because the one I was in was unbearable. That’s how my body and mind protected me.

But then dissociation became a way for my mind and body to cope in the aftermath too. For me, it felt like a powerful anesthetic, numbing out every feeling indiscriminately, even the good stuff.

Random things would trigger panic or dissociation - most annoyingly, for a long time, I couldn’t listen to the song Golden Years by David Bowie. If I smelt damp clothes or saw a red rain jacket, a whole string of associations fired through me and I was hurtling towards a panic attack.

She told me to respect my coping mechanisms. I hated them.

My therapist (who I could barely afford - that’s a whole topic of its own) explained that this was a coping mechanism and that I should respect it and work with it. But I was impatient and frustrated. I wanted to get over this, quick.

Looking back, I was struggling to accept what had happened. It was like a story I was telling myself, about someone else’s misfortune.

Time was my enemy.

This period of time, in my memory, feels warped and strange. I remember feeling minutes passing, and time was like sinking sand - it was so hard to keep moving forward and I couldn’t see a future.

I started to have thoughts of suicide. I hadn’t experienced that before and felt really scared and confused. Above all, I felt completely alone, like no one would understand - even if I had the words.

Just above the city, our dinghy, my lifeboat- Survivors’ Network.

Something that surprised me and I’ve never forgotten is how a reserve of resilience and determination, an energy that I never knew I had, surged forward just when I thought I wanted to give up.

I found Survivors’ Network and started to go to group meet-ups. At first, I’d sit in the circle and drink the tea, eat the biscuits and smile like I was at a community meeting about, I don’t know...a litter problem in the city!?

I fooled myself into believing I didn’t belong there, that it was inconsequential and I was just coming along for the ride. I was keeping my own experience at arm's length so I didn’t have to face the fallout. But as I listened to other survivors’ stories and got to know them, I became comfortable enough to start sharing and chipping away at my shame.

The group became like a transient family, and a lifeline when I needed it most.

She told me she believed me.

Only a few friends knew what was going on. I started using other services like Samaritans, RISE and Rape Crisis for extra support. One night I called a hotline for survivors and confessed (to myself as much as the volunteer at the end of the line) that I couldn’t tell anyone what had happened, because I was scared they wouldn’t believe me. They just paused and said, I believe you. I felt relief radiate my chest and hot tears melting the frozen numbness I’d been trying to break out of.

Every good night’s sleep is a Fuck You.

After that, barrages of feelings were set free. One of the most difficult being anger. I didn’t know how to channel it or what to do with it.

I played Golden Years really loudly in my room, pushed myself to go places I desperately wanted to avoid because they were associated with my trauma or ran the risk of seeing my abuser by attending things I would usually go to.

I later learned that intentionally triggering yourself after abuse isn’t unusual. It was partly a way of feeling alive through the numbness, and partly my rage starting to bubble to the surface. I wasn’t going to be kept silent and hidden.

But over time I learned to redefine defiance. I remember the first time I said my abusers' name in therapy without disappearing into dissociation, I called them a wanker and my therapist - who was quite posh and quite serious- said, ‘I see your strength come back when you say that.’

My successes in recovery were small, slow and quiet - I learned to celebrate every single one. And to start sharing my journey with the people I love and trust.

It took a long time to feel like a ‘survivor.’

A friend who supported me at the time told me once to ‘make the abuser small, in your mind.’ For me, PTSD flashbacks were not the only way that I felt I was ‘reliving’ the trauma. Fear had permeated every aspect of my life, making me feel as if I was still living through it. The idea of shrinking down my abuser in my mind started to help me see that there was no looming, invisible threat, ready to strike at any moment. It was over, and I was safe.

It became something I had survived. Bit by bit I befriended my body again, and started to heal - recalibrating into the present and mapping my ‘new normal.’

My ‘new normal’.

I wish I had known that although trauma would devastate my life, it would give me an opportunity to rebuild it with self-compassion at the center. When people told me, ‘you won’t always feel like this’, or ‘you’ll adjust’- I thought they meant that I would get used to living in darkness.

Survival for me has meant a lot of private, proud moments. Managing to sleep through the night, laughing with friends, finding coping mechanisms that make me feel safe and above all, learning to open up to meaningful connection with others in a way I don’t think I did even before all of this.

Recovery is a process and one that isn’t always linear. There’s no right way to do it. If like me, you take two steps forward and one step back - just know you are never alone.

Thank you so much for reading.

Here’s that post featuring some survivor services again.

Want to know about any future posts, zines or projects about I do about being a survivor? Pop me an email at [email protected]

* Both stats are taken from here: https://www.independent.co.uk/voices/bisexual-lgbt-pride-sexual-assault-violence-invisible-minority-survivors-a8435226.html

*Here’s a definition of bi from Stonewall: https://www.stonewall.org.uk/help-advice/glossary-terms#b

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whatmyheartsaw · 5 years

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What My Heart Did Chapter 5, Episode 3

Thawing from Below

Present Writing always seems to get harder for a time once I uncover a new element of deeply embedded truth. Since all the discoveries about my grandfather’s murder trial and how that trauma has passed down through the generations, I’ve been numb to the stories that until now have been so important to recovery. Nearly a year has passed. My mother died in January, and my father is in a nursing home. It’s almost as if my mind and body have needed to put all the facts of my ancestry aside and place any realizations into hibernation or a dormant state until I am able to adjust and understand.

Spring is slowly unfolding again in the Shenandoah Valley. As I watch the bulbs burst from the ground and the leaves and blossoms timidly emerge from the barren limbs of flowering trees and oaks, I think back to winter’s rough hand. How do trees and plants weather ice storms, snow cover, and frozen ground to faithfully reemerge each spring? What is their defense against the difficulties they are handed each and every season?

So, like any curious gardener or naturalist would do, I looked it up. I wanted to remind myself of the process I probably learned in 7th grade, and maybe glean some insight into how we as humans can be more resilient. I found an explanation by Gary Watson, head researcher from The Morton Arboretum in Illinois that struck me.

“Plants from climates with cold winters have evolved to survive winter by going dormant. That means not just dropping leaves and slowing or stopping growth, but also reducing the amount of water in branch and root tissues. The lowered concentration of water in a plant's tissue acts like a natural antifreeze: It means it takes deeper cold to form ice inside them.”

"There's always warmth in the earth," Watson says. "The soil may be freezing from the surface, but it's always thawing from below."

Throughout the winter, he says, plants are adapting constantly to the changes. The biggest danger to plants is a sudden deep freeze. "As long as they have time to adjust, they're OK," he says. "It's when change happens suddenly that it can cause trouble."

As I let that description of how plants adapt to the challenges of winter sink in, the correlation to my own life emerges. “There’s always warmth in the earth,” throbs in my heart like a drumbeat.

2014-2017 Dismantling my “busyness” took some time to settle into. First it required shutting down one business, stepping down from a non-profit board, and figuring out how to be more present with a family that was 750 miles away. The road was a bit bumpy to say the least. I considered moving closer to my family, but given my business was just starting to earn me a decent living, I didn’t think about that long. So instead I traveled and tried to keep up with the work on the road. I quickly saw that if I was going to eventually relocate, I would need to reposition my business in the new town. And while I wasn’t technically opening a “new” business, the expansion to a new market wasn’t much different. For two years I shuttled back and forth between Virginia and Florida, networking, teaching classes, and taking on new clients in both locations. Busyness took on a whole new meaning. But I rationalized the effort was “focused.”

Soon there was a second grandchild on the way. As rewarding as it was to spend time with my new granddaughter and anticipate the arrival of #2, the trips were exhausting and expensive for someone chronically ill and financially strapped. Despite my efforts towards self-care, in addition to the bouts of fibromyalgia and gastrointestinal maladies, I caught more bugs that lasted longer and had less and less energy for other parts of my life. Friends and social activities were infrequent, and I dragged myself from task to task with a gritty determination that held my fractured pieces together like glue drizzled over a pile of straw. I knew I was hanging by a thread, but the realizations of how family trauma is passed on and my intuition about how to stop the cycle kept me driving forward. I couldn’t undo what had happened to me, but I might be able to contribute to greater understanding, support, and love in subsequent generations. Quitting wasn’t an option.

What I didn’t realize was how fragile my recovery still was. Spring and summer turned to fall, and the stones I thought I was turning to reveal a saner life just uncovered another cloudy puddle of fear. Being part of the more animated, vocal family that my son married into set off all kinds of triggers. I had to practice boundary setting again and again in order to keep myself from splitting apart, and I wasn’t sure anyone understood my challeges. More intimate contact with other people’s unhappiness and passionate disagreements reminded me just how ill-equipped I was to be a grounding force within a family. Despite how far I’d come, I had a long way to go.

By early 2017 I found myself dismantling again, but in a much more dramatic way. During a trip the previous fall where I met with multiple clients, did the whole family fall activities thing, and tried to fit a visit with a friend from high school into the mix, I literally went blind. I was fighting off yet another cold, and prior to an early flight out, had booked a room at a small lake resort near the airport hoping to get some much needed recovery time. When I arrived at the hotel, I noticed my eyes were tired and cloudy, but went about having dinner and enjoying some time by the water watching the sun set. By the time I went to bed, my eyes were quite bloodshot and red, but I passed it off as fatigue and decided a good night’s rest would help.

In the morning my eyes were glued completely shut. Somewhere I had contracted a nasty case of conjunctivitis. How was I going to get my rental car back to the airport and catch my flight? I felt my way to the sink to bathe my eyes. Warm water helped, but I looked a fright and there was no time to make other arrangements. So, like every other time in my life when the going got tough, I went. Donned my sunglasses, loaded up my bags, and got safely to the airport, on the plane, and home from the airport without incident, all the while conscious of not spreading the horrific eye crud to anyone else.

But the pink eye did me in. Despite my careful attempts to manage the infection, it moved from one eye to the other and back. Even with treatment, I was unable to see for several weeks, and stumbled through limited work. Three eye doctors and several months later, I was left with a twitch and a clue that perhaps I wasn’t seeing my life clearly. By May I had shut down the Florida business operation and was regrouping once again, wondering if I would ever find my way out of the fog of trauma. The frustration of never quite finding the path to healing was driving me mad.

Present Today I woke to a cool spring morning, Easter in fact, and the metaphor of resurrection isn’t lost on me. I noticed the oak tree that groaned and shattered so violently during the winter’s first ice storm has, in spite of its scarred limbs, begun to rise to spring’s call with a splash of brilliant green.

I feel as though I’ve risen from the dead more times than most people could fathom, but these old trees give me pause. The season has turned again, and I’m cautiously optimistic that I can too.

Holidays bring mostly painful memories for me – but this Easter I’m focused on the fun parts that did and do exist. The waking to eggs hidden in the house. An Easter basket and a new dress or shoes for church. A new tradition of funny bunny ear photos.

And as I relive and enjoy the good parts, I see that the legacy of childhood abuse and how it passes down through generations is a lot like the hardness of winter. Just when we think we’ve recovered and created eternal summer in our hearts - just when we think the storm has passed - winter comes around again in a blinding snowstorm or coating of ice, freezing the soil and forcing us into hibernation. And each time the winter of our pain recurs, it’s easy to despair and believe the ravages of those traumas will never heal. But remembering there’s always warmth in the earth, thawing us from below, can help us keep going. Accepting we may never “heal,” just like accepting that winter will come again, is a sweet surrender to a truth that can settle the restless heart of a trauma survivor. Somehow, even through generations of all kinds of human trauma and pain, just like plants, we too can wake from difficulties of winter and rise again to a new season. And perhaps that’s all the healing we really need.

Read previous episodes of What My Heart Did HERE.

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thebuffalohuman-blog · 6 years

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Mount Hood: Cultural Sensitivity, The Ancestors & Knowing One’s Place

I recently made several journeys to Mount Hood. I went for two main reasons; the escape the bustling, loud and mundane life of the city and to enter sacred space, to heal and build myself after my trials in the city. I was never disappointed.

My first time, I took the trip via public transportation and because of a schedule misjudgment, it took almost 6 hours. Regardless, I still arrived with plenty of sunshine and time to have wonderful experiences.

On the trip up there, I had an interesting conversation with this man who was a foreman at a steel casting factory and told me all these cool stories about casting metal. It was interesting to me, this man’s passion for his work, even though he lived basically a “worker-bee” type of existence (has a house, kids, one grandkid, makes his life from residual checks from an event that disabled him, though he admits he has full capability to work now...)

To each their own. It’s not my place to judge.

Finally, I take the timberline express up there and I’m impressed by a few things.

1) The houses on the roadside are fucking incredible cabin-like retreats, hidden behind pine and spruce groves and windy dirt roads. Hidden sheds with animal skulls hanging off them. Really fascinating stuff. I hope that I get to own a house someday. With my current student loan situation, it looks as if that may never be a possibility. I guess we can hope, right?

2) The homogeneity of the people riding the bus. Literally everyone is white, has $500+ mountain bikes, wears expensive “mountain bike” clothes with expensive helmets and fancy gear and how many times I could hear them mentioning the hiker who got lost up there the week before. It’s almost as if I were tuned into the local news channel via their voices.

Alright, so I get off the timberline express at the ski lodge and start walking up and down the road, figuring out where I wanted to go. I ended up walking behind the hotel and calling my friend who knows the area. His suggestion didn’t help, but I did discover a hidden little grove of a few spruce and pines with a tiny circle of a plant that resembled the May Apples from back home. (BTW May apples are one of the coolest fucking plants ever. Every single part of the plant is deadly toxic except for the ripened, yellow fruit! The seeds are poisonous as well. Be careful! May apple colonies mostly grow in concentric circles. Every year or two, another layer is added to the outside of the circle. They are also known as American Mandrakes, though they are not botanically related to the famous European Mandrakes of Mythical Magic. It’s honestly too bad they don’t grow in the West. I’m not sure what this plant was.)

So, I find myself a nice fucking stream, way off the path and just camp myself there. I think I sit by that stream for 5 hours, absorbing the moss and the water and the bugs and processing the grief and trauma leftover from my forced relation to Portland and my recent breakup that I hadn’t had time to process.

For those of you who don’t know, in July of 2018, within two week span, I was assaulted in my own home with a baseball bat twice by my mother’s not-quite boyfriend, Gay* (I left the second time after diplomacy didn’t work, the police refused to help me and I didn’t want to get out my rifle), my van’s front wheel fell off while I was driving it, consequentially totaling it, my buddy who had plans to move with me to Portland in less than a month backed out of the trip without any warning, my girlfriend whom I loved very much left me and someone tried to rape me. All of a sudden, I had nothing and my entire life was in shambles. I took what money I had left, bought a ticket to Portland and started over with $700 in my pocket. (In this time, I am very grateful for my brilliant friend, Red who held so much space for me and held me when I felt so lost and alone. Seriously, I don’t know what that traumatic time would have looked like without you and the support of a few other people who kept me going and safe during that time.)

So, after I’m done processing what I can of that, I’m waiting for the Timberline Express down the mountain and the Ranger tells me that it would probably be quicker and easier to hitchhike down the mountain and that riders where often quite willing to give a traveler a lift.

So, I stand out there with my didgeridoo and eventually this older woman pulls over in a beat up old stick-shift Nissan Pickup with a SUPER chill dog in a cage in the back, asks me where I’m going and tells me to throw my stuff in the back. I tell her I’m going to the Sandy Bus stop. She tells me that she can’t bring me that far, but she’ll bring me somewhere it’ll be a better wait. I tell her that I have no idea where I’m going and that it’s all on her where she drops me off.

Okay, so I get in and here’s where things start getting deep. To break the initial silence, I start asking her questions about herself. The dialogue went like this:

Me: What’s your name?

Her: *silence*

Me: I’m James.

----I don’t tell her that I prefer to be called Buffalo. Doesn’t seem right... Obviously her name didn’t matter to her)----

Me: Where are you from?

Her: *in an irritated manner* Oh man! Isn’t that obvious?

Me: *taken aback* You’re right. I thought it was right to ask...

----Obviously she’s Native, given her physical features and the direction from which she came (Government Camp, the Reservation))---

*silence*

Me: Well, how are you doing? Did you have anything cool happen to you today?

Her: *gruffly* Why do you care?

Me: I reckon it’s right to care about people.

*silence*

---We make eye contact. There’s a connection established somewhere, oddly enough.---

Her: No. My day was pretty uneventful.

*silence*

Me: That’s a nice raccoon skin you’ve got there. *points to raccoon skin on dashboard*

Her: Oh, that’s nothing impressive. *turns her head and makes a face like she’s smiling, but hiding it*

Me: I reckon if I ever took a creature’s life, I’d have to use every single part of the animal. I feel like I owe it to Earth Mother not waste and to be grateful for everything.

Her: I guess that’s right. *pauses* People who love the Earth the way she truly wants to be loved are always going to be stepped on, though. If you submit to the way she wants you to be be, you’re always gonna end up taking the brunt of things.

---Now, honestly, I get this on a DEEP level. Sometimes, surrendering to the highest path is a scary thing and you get thrown into situations where you aren’t sure of your abilities to manage, people throw their emotional garbage on you at increasing levels and you’re expected to be able to respond in a way that teaches them compassionately, rather than return the violence. At the same time, I feel like I can’t accept this, because only by learning to be more intelligent in your dealings with people are you often able to both escape the negativity of dealing with less “realized” people AND to bring the kind of understanding and light you want to see in the world. It’s a matter of understanding the threat of uncertainty and embracing it. So, I, a culturally educated but “colorblind” white boy, open my mouth and say...

"It’s all about learning to fight SMARTER. You can’t just lie down and take their bullshit. We all gotta stand up and do our parts to stop this thing!”

---Honestly, I’m glad that she didn’t throw me out of the vehicle right there on the winding mountain highway and drive away with all my stuff. She pulled over quickly after that, told me that this was where she was dropping me off (by a convenience store, a dispensary and a coffee shop). I asked her if the bus came this way, she said it did, wished me well on my journey, let me get my stuff from the back and drove off---

So, after a nice, flirty, but intimate and deep conversation with the guy behind the counter at the dispensary, I roll myself a joint in this wooded area behind the convenience store that looks like someone’s far yard. I see ANOTHER cool ass, moss covered, old shed with an elk skull hanging from the outside and reflect on my journey... communing with this ageless spirit I encountered on the mountain that seems to personify all life on the mountain.

I learned so much from this experience about “knowing one’s place” in the world. We are all human beings and are on this journey of life together and there is NO excuse for racism or boundaries between people. We must all understand ourselves and come together to grow and ascend as a species, otherwise we are doomed... but it is CRITICAL that you understand your place in it all.

I am white. Not once did I ever kill a Native person, force them off their land, destroy their culture or attempt to destroy their spirituality. This does not mean that I get to ignore that my Ancestors had roles in these terrible genocides in history and that I have benefited in some way from this... through schooling or health care or whatever comes with the laws of the country I was “born” in. It is my responsibility to recognize where I am in the world.

I am male. Not once did I ever rape a woman or hit a woman... In fact, I have involved myself in situations where I aided a person in escaping these kind of situations. This does not mean that I get to ignore the fact that I may threaten a woman because I resemble her abuser or trigger her in some way, or that her female ancestors (and mine) have lost their birth names, or been repressed by marriage customs, voting rights, cultures and misogyny.

It is my responsibility to accept everyone where they are and to accept myself where I am and to not try to make the situation any better, just to learn from it and hold everyone in the highest respect and love as possible.

So, that’s Mount Hood. She’s ancient. She knows you and I and is willing to show us what we need to know. I am grateful for the experience.

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